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Wednesday, 23 February 2011

The stories of mythology are rich with stories of the trials of men and heroes against mighty foes. But at times the gods, too, are tested and their weaknesses revealed. For the deities of the pagan religions, unlike the lone god of the Abrahamic faiths, are portrayed as far from perfect, and susceptible to very human faults. This is particularly true in the sagas of the Norse gods, who are not even truly immortal, remaining so only so long as they eat from the Blessed fruit – which on one occasion was hidden from them, with disastrous consequences. The Norse gods live, fight and die, and venture forth from Asgard to partake in splendid adventures. Most famous of these deities is undoubtedly the son of Odin, the god of thunder and war - Thor.

Thor -The Thunder God
Painting by Mårten Eskil Winge.

Though the Aesir, or war gods, of Asgard and the Jötunn of Jötunheim (for more on these, please click here) were on occasion the most terrible of foes, there were also times when both god and giant turned their hands to means other than war to humiliate the other. The harmony of the Nine Worlds depended on a delicate and fragile balance of power between the various races of the cosmos, a balance which the cruel Jötunn ever sought to overturn. There were times when the balance had to be restored, when the Jötunn needed to be shown their true place, for ever present was the looming prospect of Ragnarök, the day of all out war, when the Nine Worlds will be overturned with fire – a day which must be delayed at all costs. The supremacy of the gods depended on this. Our story here is one such time when the gods made such a visit upon the Jötunn.

Thor and Loki did one day take leave of Asgard for the towering heights of Útgarða, home to the King of the Giants amid the cruel wastelands of Jötunheim. Coming late one night on the Earth to a lowly hut, the two gods were warmly received by a small family, noble in spirit yet desperately poor. Unable to afford meat, the hosts offer a vegetable soup, not knowing that their guests were something more than the ordinary travelers. Taking pity on them, Thor slaughtered Tanngrisnir and Tanngnjóstr, the two goats which pulled the thunder god’s chariot through the sky. Asking that they spare the skins and bones, Thor and his company have their merry feast, although Thjálfi, the son of the host family, secretly snapped one of the goat’s bones so as to acquire the marrow. Waking next morning, Thor strides over to the remains of his loyal goats, and waves Mjöllnir – the famous hammer of Thor – over the bones. For the goats were no mere earthly goats, for at the Thunderer’s command, they returned to life, ready to serve their master once more. The god, however, soon noticed that one of his goats was lame in one leg, since its bone had been broken by the boy the night before. Rounding on the family in fury, Thor took along Thjálfi on his journey as repayment.

Skrýmir
Drawing by Friedrich Wilhelm Heine.

When night fell once again on their journey, the travelers chanced upon a strange hall in the wilderness. Door as wide as the walls, and possessed of many passages leading into it, the gods made camp for the night. Their sleep was not easy, broken by loud roars, and tremors in the Earth. Uneasy, Thor left the hall early in the morning and walked into the light. To his shock, he saw what had caused the noises in the night, a vast giant, sleeping in the forest. Turning back, he realised that the strange hall his kin had slept in was in fact the giant’s glove, so mighty in stature was he. Roused from his slumber, the giant introduced himself as Skrýmir, and offered to guide them to Útgarða, even offering to carry their provisions for them. The gods agreed, relieved that the mighty Jötunn was not hostile. Night fell once more, and Skrýmir began to snore loudly once again. Thor turned to their bag of provisions, desperately hungry. To his rage, the giant had tied the knot tight, too tight for the god to undo. The snoring bored into their heads all night until the Thunderer could tolerate it no longer. Taking up Mjöllnir, Thor “smote down upon the middle of his crown”. A mighty talisman which had conquered so many foes, and lain bare so many citadels, the blow should have slain the giant outright. Skrýmir raised an eyelid for a moment, thinking a leaf must have fallen upon his head, before once again falling asleep. Growing angry once again, Thor raised his Hammer high and smote the giant once again. “An acorn must have fallen on me”, spoke the weary Skrýmir. Enraged, Thor drew upon all his strength and smashed Mjöllnir onto the giant’s skull. Skrýmir sat up, bidding good morning to Thor, he explained that there must have been birds sleeping in the trees above him, for he thought he felt twigs and dirt fall upon him in his sleep. Telling the gods that they were almost there, Skrýmir ran ahead to prepare a welcome for them, his massive frame soon carrying him to Útgarða.

At last reaching the mighty fortress, Thor, Loki and Thjálfi crept through the grating into the vast hall, whereupon they were welcomed by Útgarða-Loki, King of the Jötunn and Master of Útgarða. Proclaiming loudly how puny the Aesir were compared with the Jötunn, the giant king challenged the gods to beat them at any event. Loki, the trickster, stepped forward, boldly claiming to be able to out eat any amongst them. Nodding in assent, Útgarða-Loki sent forth the giant Logi to challenge him. A vast banquet was laid and set in a trough, and the match began. God and giant ate quickly, and soon met in the middle of the trough. Having devoured all his food, Loki felt sure of victory, but to his dismay, saw that Logi had not only eaten all his food, but had consumed bones, plates and trough too. So the Giants claimed their first victory. Shocked, but not beaten, this time young Thjálfi stepped forward, claiming that no giant was such a runner as he. The giant Hugi accepted the challenge and the race began. Thjálfi ran swiftly, more swiftly than any man has done since, but upon reaching the halfway line, saw to his horror that Hugi had already finished. They raced once again, and again, but each time Thjálfi was easily beaten.

Útgarða-Loki turned to Thor and asked what task he would stake. Thor proudly stated that there was no other who could drink such as he. The king sent for a drinking horn, telling the thunder god:

“ It is held that this horn is well drained if it is drunk off in one drink,
but some drink it off in two; but no one is so poor a man at drinking
that he fails to drain it off in three ”
- THE GIANT KING CHALLENGES THOR

Thor looked at the horn, which did not seem so big to him, though quite long. Putting it to his lips he drew breath and gulped like never before. Looking at the top of the horn, Thor saw to his rage that the level had barely dropped. He tried once again, and again, and made the level of the liquid fall just enough to be noticeable but no more. Laughing hysterically, the giants offered some easier tasks for Thor. The King sent out his own cat, asking if Thor was strong enough to lift it. Strongest of all the gods, and wearer of a belt which granted hyper strength, Thor felt sure he could at least do this. Heaving with all his divine might, the cat arched its back, and eventually, lifted just one paw off the ground. Laughing roundly at the god’s effort, the king issued his final challenge. After Thor proclaimed that he would readily wrestle any of the Jötunn, Útgarða-Loki sent forth his own nurse, a lady, bent with extreme age, to spar with the god. The two struggled and strained, and the withered lady brought the Thunderer down onto one knee. Humbled and utterly humiliated, Thor and his party stormed out of the fortress.

Útgarða-Loki explains to Thor
Drawing by Louise Huard.

Once in the wilderness again, Thor saw Útgarða-Loki approaching him. Telling the giant that he had shamed him, Thor was appalled with himself. The giant however, smiled and explained. Skrýmir had been him all along, and when he had bound their provisions he had done so in iron, and when Thor had struck him, he had struck the Earth itself. Pointing out three large canyons on the wilderness, Útgarða-Loki showed the god his folly. Whilst Loki was indeed a swift eater, his opponent in reality was Fire, which devours all in its path. Whilst Thjálfi was indeed a powerful runner, his opponent was in reality Thought, swifter than all else. Thor, though a formidable drinker, failed to see that the other end of the horn was in the Ocean itself, impossible for man to drain. The king’s cat was in reality the World Serpent, Jörmungand, so vast that he can circle the world and take his own tail in his mouth (for more about him, please click here). As for the ancient lady with whom the god had wrestled, she was Old Age herself, which overcomes all. Congratulating Thor on managing to raise the cat’s paw, and being forced onto one knee only by Old Age, Útgarða-Loki departed, warning the gods never to set foot in his lands again. Thor had been tested and humiliated, but he had learned valuable lessons.

Wednesday, 16 February 2011

Whilst the gods of ancient times were benefactors, patrons and sometimes creators of the human race, for a mortal human to scorn their authority was a dangerous game to play. For though the rewards of virtue in the afterlife could be eternal bliss in the tranquil, golden and peaceful fields of Elysium, those possessed of an evil spirit would be condemned to a terrible ordeal. Heaven and Hell, the places of ceaseless reward and torture after death, are not a Christian invention. The ideas are far more ancient. Indeed the stories of Heaven and Hell which are so remembered in the works of Dante and Milton (stories which are told on this site, please browse the archives for these), are directly inspired by the heroic stories of ancient Greece and Rome. The shades in the Underworld, and their fate there, could become legendary. One such man was just that. His name was Sisyphus.

The Isthmus of CorinthPhotograph taken by the author.

Sisyphus was descended from noble stock. The son of Aeolus and Enarete, grandson of Hellen (the father of the Hellenic race, and hence why anything Greek is referred to as ‘Hellenic’ – even the modern country of Greece is officially titled the Hellenic Republic) and great grandson of Zeus himself, the master of Olympus. Sisyphus’ own grandson was the hero Bellerophon (the story of whom is told here), slayer of the monstrous Chimaera. Scheming and malevolent, Sisyphus seized the throne of the great city of Corinth from his brother by force and seduced his own niece. Under his rule, however, Corinth grew rich and powerful through trade and violence to become one of the most majestic cities in Greece. However it was achieved through deceit and cruelty. Sisyphus held no qualms about cruelly murdering guests of his own household, and travellers to his lands. Hospitality, and the bond between host and guest, was a sacred concept to the Greeks even more so than it is today. Zeus himself was patron of it, and violation of it was one of the very worst of crimes, tantamount to a transgression of divine law.

Yet he did not stop there. Zeus, the master of the gods, was infamous for his unfaithfulness to his wife Hera, and frequently stole away with various nymphs, in hiding from her. One such nymph was Aegina, daughter of the River god Asopus, whom the Thunderer spirited away from her homeland in the guise of an eagle. Arising the next day, Asopus looked for his daughter, but in vain. Stricken by grief, Asopus searched the lands for her, calling her name. Sisyphus however, had inadvertently witnessed the abduction. Seizing his chance to humble the mightiest of gods, Sisyphus confided Zeus’ secret to the god of the river, who was outraged. But if he was outraged, it was nothing compared to the fury of Zeus, fury that a mortal considered himself just in confiding the secrets of Olympus.

Thanatos - the daemon of DeathPhotograph taken by Marie-Lan Nguyen.

Preparing for what was to come, Sisyphus decided to test the loyalty of his wife, Queen Merope, with a strange request. He ordered her that on the day of his death, his body was not to be buried, but to lie dirtied in the streets, the plaything to the crows and jeers of the people. Bewildered and reluctant, Merope relented at last after Sisyphus’ urging. Meanwhile, Zeus summoned to him the grim god Thanatos. Thanatos was an ancient daemon, the son of Darkness and Night, brother of Sleep and Death incarnate. Hated by mortals and immortals alike, Pitiless in the execution of his duty and a terrifying figure upon which the rays of the Sun never fell, Thanatos was the harbinger of doom to all beings when their time was up. The time for Sisyphus’ passing was decreed, and the Thunderer ordered Thanatos to seize the cruel king and bind him in chains in the Underworld. The god commanded and the merciless daemon obeyed. Seeing his torment upon him, Sisyphus seemed resigned to his fate. Before bowing to the daemon’s command, Sisyphus asked him if he might demonstrate himself the strength of the chain first, so that he might marvel at its magnificence. Thanatos agreed, and bound himself in the chains to show that not even he could escape from them. Sisyphus gave a shout of malicious joy, taunting Death that he had bound him in his own chains. Laughing at his own cunning, Sisyphus climbed his way back to Earth, leaving the daemon of Death straining against his incarceration.

TartarusPainting by Jan Brueghel the Elder.

The uproar was catastrophic. With Thanatos bound in the Underworld, no mortal could die and complete their passage to the afterlife without him. The natural order of the cosmos had been overturned completely, the delicate balance thrown into chaos. Disease and Plague found no victim, Old Age broke none and however grievous their wounds, no soldier would die in war. Ares, the Lord of Slaughter and god of war grew angry. Battle had lost its glory when his foes would no longer die, and blood would no longer flow from either side on the field of war. Marching into Hades himself, Ares found the bound daemon and freed him from his bonds. Death was allowed once again to carry out his fell work. His first target was Sisyphus.

The Torture of SisyphusPainting by Titian.

Dragging the deceitful king to Hades, Sisyphus was condemned for a second time to the House of Death. However, there was a problem. No soul of the deceased could pass beyond the River Styx if their corporeal form had not received the proper burial rites. So the second scheme of Sisyphus came to play, for he had ordered his wife to hurl his corpse into the dusty square of Corinth. Sisyphus appealed to the Lady Persephone, the wife of Hades himself, asking her to allow him to return to Earth, so that he might chastise his wife for her disloyal and disrespectful treatment of his corpse. Falling for his persuasive words, the Queen of the Underworld relented, and granted her assent for this task. Silently exultant once again, for the second time Sisyphus marched unopposed from the Underworld. Returning to his city, taking up the royal mantle once more, he refused to return to Hades. Enraged at his insubordination, Zeus ordered Hermes to forcefully drag Sisyphus to the Underworld. This time, however, there was to be no chance of escape. Zeus condemned Sisyphus to Tartarus, the deepest part of the Underworld. It was a land of fire, smoke and ash, where only the cruellest of souls could be sent. The Titans themselves were bound in this land (for more on this, please click here). Doomed to an eternity of frustration and torment, Sisyphus was forced to carry out a fruitless task until the end of time. Cast at the foot of a great mount, the cruel king was forced to bear a heavy boulder up its steep slopes, amid the burning heat and acrid fumes of Tartarus:

“ Bracing himself and thrusting with hands and feet he pushed the boulder
uphill to the top. But every time, as he was about to send it toppling over
the crest, its sheer weight turned it back, and once again towards the plain
the pitiless rock rolled down. So once more he had to wrestle with the thing
and push it up, while the sweat poured from his limbs and the dust rose high
above his head. ”
- THE TORMENT OF SISYPHUS

So would the endless cycle begin. No matter how hard he tries, he cannot push the boulder that last yard over the top. Such is the fate of Sisyphus, a man who dared to challenge a god.

The story of Sisyphus is legend. His name is as famous as his punishment, such that now any venture deemed fruitless or never ending is called 'sisyphean' in the English language. It is a powerful tale of pride and the consequences of it - a favourite moral tale to the ancients as much as it is to us. The story of Man against God, man against Nature and Man against Death is a motif which will endure as long as men can die. Sisyphus is mentioned in many places throughout Classical literature, but here I list a few of the most substantial episodes, all in easily available form from Amazon:

Wednesday, 9 February 2011

A ringing clap of thunder suddenly rouses Dante from his slumber, as the boatman’s craft nears the banks of Hell (for the precursor to this, the entrance of Dante to the Inferno, please click here). Finding himself “upon the brink of grief’s abysmal valley that collects the thundering of endless cries”, our pilgrim must once again be of stout heart and brave resolve, as he slowly descends into the accursed pit of Hell. The darkness was so thick that, but for the guiding hand of the poet Virgil, he would surely be lost. Seeing a look of anguish breaking Virgil’s face, Dante asks what hope there is for him to remain strong, when his guide so clearly is frightened? Not fear, Virgil tells his protégé, but pity it is he feels for the coming souls, condemned for eternity in the void.

The abandoned souls of Limbo
Engraving by Gustave Doré.

Leaving the churning waters of Acheron behind, and the wailing of the naked, wretched forms of the recently deceased crowding fell Charon’s ferry, Dante hears only the sound of soft sighs and despair. The throng of souls ahead is composed of men and women and of infants too, resigned to untormented grief. No physical punishment afflicts these cursed souls. Noting the curiosity upon Dante’s face, Virgil tells our shaken pilgrim of the lot of man condemned to here, Limbo – The First Circle of Hell. “They have not sinned”, he begins, “But their great worth alone was not enough, for they did not know Baptism”. Here too are the souls of those virtuous men who were born before the birth of Christ, the heroes of ancient times, great writers, orators, soldiers and fathers of nations. Realisation dawning upon him, Dante looks suddenly to his guide, but his unasked question is answered. “I myself am a member of this group”, Virgil mournfully states, “for this effect, and for no other guilt, we here are lost”. Condemned to be cut off from hope, and to live on in endless desire, that is the agony that plagues these souls in Limbo.

Dante and the Classical Poets
Engraving by Gustave Doré.

Pity coursing through our pilgrim, he desperately asks his guide if there truly is no salvation for him, or his pagan brethren. “I was a novice in this place when I saw a mighty Lord descend to us”, he replies (Virgil died just nineteen years before the time of Christ), and that the Lord took from Hell the souls of Abel, of Noah, of Moses, of Abram and of David the King and his family, and that before these souls were taken no other human soul had found salvation. The two continue on their journey through the woods of Limbo, talking of melancholy of past days, and the stricken hope of the souls that reside there. Ahead Dante spots four shades approaching, faces betraying neither joy nor sorrow. First comes Homer, the father of poets, then Horace, the satirist, Ovid comes third, and finally Lucan. Virgil moves to join them, creating a truly awe inspiring collection of some of the greatest minds of humanity. They turn to Dante and beckon him to join them, filling him with joy with such an honour.

Reaching the boundaries of a mighty castle, they pass through seven gates, and Dante spots many great heroes of yore. Brave Hector, Aeneas the progenitor of the Roman race, Julius Caesar, chaste Lucretia and standing apart from the group, the chivalrous Saladin, the most honourable foe to the crusaders, only recently dead. A great crowd stands by the shade of Aristotle, most admired of philosophers, which includes such figures as Plato, Socrates, Empedocles and Zeno (whose paradoxes acquired such fame). Orpheus the bard was there too, as was the orator Cicero and the philosopher Seneca. Great pioneers of science, Hippocrates and Galen too, clamour at the approach of this learned group. But the road ahead is long, and the illustrious company is broken up, as Virgil and Dante continue their journey alone into the throat of Hell.

King Minos judges the Damned
Engraving by Gustave Doré.

Upon the boundary of Limbo, Dante and Virgil come to the gates of the Second Circle of Hell, and its dread guardian, King Minos who judges the damned. A hideous, bestial sight greets those who look on the evil crown, which stands upon his grotesque body and powerful tail. The authority of sin, it is he who hears the case of each evil soul brought before him. Binding the soul in his tail, the number of coils around them signifies the Circle of Hell into which they are to be cast. An endless queue awaits their doom, as the wrathful King pronounces judgement, and bellows cruel warnings at Dante, for easy it is to enter Hell, yet never will he emerge. Bold words, however, are spoken by Virgil, and Minos allows them passage into lower worlds.

Here lies a place where anguish, cries and roars ring in our pilgrim’s ears, where sounds of weeping test his nerve once more. This is an accursed place, the first place where the damned souls are punished for their earthly crimes:

The Lustful are blasted by the Tempest.
Engraving by Gustave Doré.

“ I came to a place where no light shone at all,

Bellowing like the sea racked by a tempest,

When warring winds attack it from both sides.

The infernal storm, eternal in its rage,

Sweeps and drives the spirits with its blast:

It whirls them, lashing them with punishment... ”
- THE LUSTFUL ARE BLASTED BY THE TEMPEST

The howls and screams of the souls within blaspheme against God, as they curse their fate. Dante learns from his master that these are the shades of those who were lustful in life, those “who make reason slave to appetite”. Just as they were swept along by corrupt desire in life, so now the fell wind propels their spirits in Hell. Like cranes in flight, the lustful soar through the vault of Hell, never ending their journey, battered by an evil gale which does not cease. Our pilgrim asks the great poet who these people are, and Virgil points out the most famous of history’s licentious crowd. Virgil casts his hand toward Semiramis, the carnal Queen of Assyria, whose passions knew no bounds, there too was Cleopatra, Helen, whose machinations hurled so many men to the House of Death, Paris, whose lust spelled Troy’s doom, Tristan and Isolde of ruinous passions and Dido, whose sickening infatuation with Aeneas threatened to sway Rome from her glorious destiny. Dante himself calls to Francesca, daughter of the Lord of Ravenna, and Paolo, brother to her husband, with whom she betrayed the faithfulness of marriage. They recall their violent end, when Gianciotto chanced upon Francesca and his brother together, and in a rage slew them both, condemning them to Hell. Dante is once again overcome by the horrific sights before him, and falls into a swoon, unnerved by his first contact with the damned who are truly punished in Hell. Worse, however, and more foul sights were yet to come in the Inferno...

Wednesday, 2 February 2011

We return today to the saga of Oedipus, the beleaguered King of Thebes (for the previous and first episode of the story, please click here). Having received word from the sacred Oracle at Delphi, King Oedipus discovered that in order for Apollo to lift the plague which stalks the streets of Thebes, he must hunt down and cast out the murderer of King Laius, Oedipus' predecessor. Vowing to exile the culprit himself, Oedipus embarked upon a campaign of discovery, piecing together the events surrounding his rise to the throne (when the Oracle had decreed that Oedipus would kill his own father and be wed to his own mother), and the murder of Laius. The blind prophet Tiresias denounced Oedipus himself as the murderer, much to the latter's disgust, yet Queen Jocasta sought to sooth her King's pain by reassuring him that Laius was killed at a crossroads by robbers, so it could not possibly have been Oedipus. Or could it?

The Corinthian lands
Photograph by the author.

Whilst urgently awaiting the arrival of the sole survivor of the massacre which took the life of Laius, Oedipus grows more and more agitated. Memories of his old life flood his mind, as his thoughts race, twist and turn to the time when he himself walked the road from Delphi to Thebes, and was himself assailed at a crossroads. Jocasta says that Laius was killed “at a place where three roads meet”, which reminds him all too ominously of where Oedipus slew that vulgar man and his entourage. Oedipus asks Jocasta to describe Laius:

“ He was swarthy...

And the gray had just begun to streak his temples,

And his build... wasn’t far from yours... ”

- JOCASTA DESCRIBES LAIUS

Terror floods Oedipus, perhaps that blind seer could see? Just as he is about to resign himself to have fulfilled Apollo's terrible curse, a messenger suddenly arrives from Corinth. He tells Oedipus that his father, King Polybus is now dead, and that he is the rightful King of Corinth! Oedipus quickly demands to know how he died, was it murder? Sickness? What? Old age, the messenger assures him. Jocasta is relieved, there surely, is proof that the prophecy was false after all? Oedipus recovers a little of his former confidence. If it is as Jocasta and this man say, then he is in the clear.

The Messenger with the infant Oedipus
Sculpture by Antoine-Denis Chaudet.

Rejoicing in the news, Oedipus tells the messenger that he must not face Queen Merope of Corinth, his mother, for the second line of the prophecy could still, however dreadful, come to pass. "What prophecy is this?", the messenger asks. Oedipus repeats the fateful verse, that he is fated to murder his father and be wed to his mother. "Why don't I rid you of that old worry now?" says the messenger. So the messenger begins his story, that once as a young man whilst tending his flocks in the mountain pastures of Mount Cithaeron, a stranger gave to him an infant. An infant whose ankles were painfully bound. Oedipus remembers the deformity in his own feet that had plagued his movement for as long as he could remember. That baby was given by the messenger to King Polybus, who adopted it as his own, and raised him as his own son. Who gave this baby to him? Another shepherd, the messenger remembers, a servant "he called himself a servant of... if I remember lightly - Laius". Jocasta sharply turns to the messenger, "the king of the land who ruled here long ago?". "That's the one", he assures her. Upon asking his court if anyone knows of this servant, they reply that he is in fact the same man who survived the attack at the place where three roads meet, whom Oedipus has sent for. Jocasta, dread realisation spreading through her, begs Oedipus to call off his investigation, for his own sake. Oedipus is adamant, he must discover the truth. He vowed before the gods themselves that he would cast out Laius' murderer, and he alone can do so. Ordering the servant to speed his way to the court, Queen Jocasta runs screaming to her bedroom, bemoaning the "man of agony" that is her son.

An old shepherd is brought to the palace, reluctantly coming before King Oedipus. The messenger from Corinth is exultant, "He's your man!" he tells Oedipus. Oedipus questions him closely, did he truly hand over a baby to the messenger? "What? Why rake that up again?" the shepherd wails. Desperatedly trying to evade questioning and revealing the truth, the shepherd screams for Oedipus to ask no more. Threatening him with torture, Oedipus forces him to go on. "Queen Jocasta gave the infant to me", he despairs. Oedipus asks why she would do this. Out of fear of a prophecy, the shepherd responds, "they said - he'd kill his parents...". But why did the shepherd give the infant to this Corinthian? "I pitied the little baby, master", he could not bear to leave it to die on the harsh mountain slopes, and hoped it would receive a better lot in life far away in a distant land. Realisation of the whole truth, the terrible truth, that he had been a pawn of the gods his whole life, now one dreadful curse, Oedipus chokes on the fact that his father was slain by his own hand and that his four children were sprung from his own mother and wife:

“ O god -

all come true, all burst to light!

O light - now let me look my last on you!

I stand revealed at last -

cursed in my birth, cursed in marriage,

cursed in the lives I cut down with these hands! ”

- THE TERRIBLE TRUTH STRIKES OEDIPUS

Hurtling back into the depths of his palace, Oedipus curses his fate with a great cry. The courtiers all despair at how the Fates can fell even the greatest of men, remembering the old days when Oedipus had saved them all from the Sphinx, only now to taint the land with his terrible curse. A shout echoes from within the palace - Queen Jocasta has hanged herself. Oedipus breaks into her chamber howling with rage. Bellowing at the guards to bring him a sword so that he too might die, he circles the body of his wife and mother. Changing his mind, Oedipus tears two brooch pins from his mothers corpse. Holding them high, and looking straight down the sharp pins, he thrusts them into his eyes. As the dark blood flows from his sockets, Oedipus cries:

“ You,

You'll see no more the pain I suffered, all the pain I caused

Too long you looked on the ones you never should have seen,

blind to the ones you longed to see, to know! Blind

from this hour on! Blind in the darkness - blind! ”

- OEDIPUS DRIVES THE PINS INTO HIS EYES

﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿﻿

Oedipus in Exile
Painting by Fulchran-Jean Harriet.

﻿﻿ Emerging slowly from the palace, led by a boy, the blinded Oedipus begs Creon, his uncle and brother-in-law, to enact the decree which Oedipus himself laid out, and exile him. Creon vows to consult the gods to ask what to do, but Oedipus is relentless, he must go. Hearing sobbing behind him, Oedipus turns and hears the voices of Antigone and Ismene, his daughters yet also his sisters. Weeping for them to have been born into such an accursed family, Oedipus begs Creon to look after them, a promise Creon makes. Oedipus offers his hand to Creon, who swiftly backs away, loath to touch the polluted man. Resigned to despair, Oedipus sets out on the road once again, this time a cursed exile, destined to be despised by gods and men for the rest of his days.

So ends Oedipus the King, the first episode of the Three Theban Plays. Regarded as a master stroke of dramatic storytelling, and a model for all future tragedies even in ancient times, the story of Oedipus and his progeny is as potent today as it ever was before. As clichéd as 'on the edge of your seat drama' has become today, this is what started that very sentiment. The story of Oedipus is very easily available, for a nominal price from Amazon. I strongly urge you to give them a go: